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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295366">descansos // in memoriam</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellbig/pseuds/smellbig'>smellbig</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wynonna Earp (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Mild Smut, Wordcount: Over 10.000, each chapter has a motif that i kinda hammer to death lmao, idk if you can even call it that lol, im trying a new thing..., loosely based around some shit ive seen/heard about lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellbig/pseuds/smellbig</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. B’s office was always a safe space for students, and oftentimes Waverly would see the young professor standing at the windows sipping her coffee and waving to the students below who she recognized before classes. That’s where she had expected to see her this morning as well, but in her place all Waverly saw was a flash of red hair, blazing and burning in between the jamb liners, and it took her breath away.<br/>-<br/>Or, a slightly angsty college AU that nobody asked for and i ride a motif each chapter maybe a liiiitle too hard</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. collateral damage // fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi all!! i'm back with some shit!! figured we could all use more wayhaught in our lives c: this is a new AU I've been workshopping and playing with a little bit, not sure how long it'll go just yet but we'll see. we will be jumping back and forth between the "past" (this chapter) and "present" (upcoming)<br/>i wouldn't call it a songfic by any means but it was all written while listening to hayley williams' new album flowers for vases / descansos, and is heavily inspired by themes in there so i will recommend a song from the album to listen to while reading each chapter at the beginning of each one that links up spiritually. enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> chapter 1 recommendation: <strong>my limb</strong> by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>At the first sight of red hair, Waverly had been hers.</p><p>She remembered it like it was yesterday, crossing the quad and glancing up into one of the tall buildings filled with professor offices. It was easy to spot her advisor’s, Dr. B, since one of the two large galley windows which bracketed the small office was donned with a large rainbow flag. The University of Purgatory was an extremely accepting place - it was a college, after all - and the surrounding town, while small, was mostly welcoming as well. The downtown, if you could call it that, consisted of a number of quirky shops, many of which also displayed rainbow flags. Once you stepped outside the blocks of Purgatory’s Main Street and into the rural countryside, however, all bets were off. It was for that reason that Waverly tended to stay within the campus for the most part.</p><p>Dr. B’s office, however, was always a safe space for students, and oftentimes Waverly would see the young professor standing at the windows sipping her coffee and waving to the students below who she recognized before classes. That’s where she had expected to see her this morning as well, but in her place all Waverly saw was a flash of red hair, blazing and burning in between the jamb liners, and it took her breath away.</p><p>But she was already late for class, so she had looked away and hustled on.</p><hr/><p>Dr. B’s real name was Rosita Bustillos, and while she certainly seemed to be a hard ass, the truth was that she had to appear so at first. Most professors let their students call them by their first names, but since day one she had made it obvious that <em>that </em>would not be tolerated in her classrooms. Being a thirty-something woman of color teaching at a university overwhelmingly dominated by male professors, she had no choice but to put up a brash exterior. And while Waverly knew that by no means was she truly a pushover, Dr. B had her soft spots, especially for certain students who fell into her graces.</p><p><em> Thankfully I’m one of them</em>, Waverly thought to herself as she slouched into one of the two old white couches in her office between Jeremy and Rachel. On the other couch, Chrissy was recounting some story to Dr. B, who listened in intently from her rolling desk chair, flashing a welcoming smiling to Waverly as she plopped her backpack at her feet.</p><p>“Long day?” Jeremy asked, reaching into one of Dr. B’s filing cabinet drawers, the one which secretly held chocolates for her favorite students to snack on between classes. He pulled out two candies, passing one to Waverly.</p><p>“Something like that,” she responded, popping the treat into her mouth. “Xavier assigned a shit ton of homework again, as if I don’t have a million other things going on.”</p><p>Before she had a chance to say anything, Waverly gave Rachel a look. “Yes, I know, I should have listened to you.”</p><p>That had the other girl laughing. “I have my moments of wisdom.”</p><p>“Oh, by the way,” Dr. B’s voice cut through their conversation, her eyes skipping back and forth over the four pupils, “if you see my new graduate research assistant around, say hi and introduce yourselves, she’s a little nervous about coming to a new place and all.”</p><p>“I forgot she was here already,” Chrissy said, motioning for Jeremy to pass her a chocolate. Waverly couldn’t blame her; she had also all but forgotten that there was someone coming today to begin their research fellowship with Dr. B. “What’s her name again?”</p><p>“Nicole,” a new voice chimed in from the doorway, drawing five sets of eyes to its presence. Waverly sucked in a breath. The flames had surrounded her once more.</p><hr/><p>Well, things had been so simple back then, hadn’t they?</p><p>Like the voice of a new research assistant coming from the threshold, beckoning curious glances and burning the patience Waverly had thought was indomitable. Dr. B had introduced the students to the assistant with haste, noting the time as an indication she had to rush out and pick up her kids from school. She tossed her extra set of keys to Rachel, a wordless trust existing between the four students and their professor - <em> lock the door when you leave and slide the key under the door </em> - and left.</p><p>So like that, Waverly found herself in Dr. B’s office with some of her closest friends, and the new research assistant, bright and ablaze. When their eyes met, she felt the warmth being sucked out of her.</p><p>They hadn’t stayed for long, instead electing to head to one of the dive bars down the street. “An apt welcome to UPurg,” Jeremy had said, clinking their shot glasses together. “To Nicole, the next great researcher Dr. B will soon produce.”</p><p>Nicole ducked her head, the wisps of fire falling in front of her eyes. She made no move to push them aside, and Waverly felt her fingertips tingle at the thought of tucking the locks behind her ear. She wanted to feel them burn. “And to you all, for welcoming a big city girl to my new normal.”</p><p>Waverly only had that one shot that night, but as she watched Jeremy coax Nicole out to the dance floor she had never felt more drunk in her entire life. </p><hr/><p>Then, Nicole began to pop up more and more often. The group of four that had been spending time in Dr. B’s office after classes for two years now expanded as Nicole began to join them more frequently. Over a few weeks she opened up more and more, speaking quietly but passionately about her research interests. She spoke with her hands, motioning through the air with fervor. Waverly watched with awe, the need to be charred at her touch growing. Nicole was always busy, Dr. B made sure of it, so she rarely came out with the group on the weekends. But Waverly saw the looks, the glances, and the way Nicole’s eyes trailed over her as she left a room, the hidden smiles and fiddling fingers that no one else noticed, the scorched skin left in the wake of soft touches on her shoulder in passing. There was no doubt between them, there was only time wasted, assignments and papers and research which took up hours and left little time even to eat. </p><p>Truth was, meals at the Caf were just about the only time they ever saw each other. Waverly was so used to gobbling down her dinner, rushing to return to her apartment to read whatever god-awful bullshit textbook chapters were assigned for that night. But when Nicole had time enough to be pried away from her research to enjoy a meal, Waverly was sure to eat slowly, savoring every moment sitting with the woman across from her. </p><p>It had been nearly two months into the semester before Nicole, at one of these contemplative dinners, was tired of waiting for the right time which was clearly never going to come. Usually, meals in the Caf were wholly unmemorable, but Nicole could recall clearly the peas and carrots that were on her plate that day as she had stared at them, using a fork to push them around her plate as she gained courage.</p><p>“Nic?” Waverly had said quietly after noticing her nervous demeanor, her nickname making Nicole smile. It was that which made her look up and meet the brunette’s eyes, confidence be damned.</p><p>“Waverly, I hope I’m not reading this all wrong, but would it be alright - well, if you’re free, of course - if I took you out on a date this weekend?” She fidgeted with the fork a bit more. </p><p>Waverly let out a quick sigh, the concern in her face vanishing to make way for that sweet smile. “You’re definitely not reading it wrong, Nicole,” she managed. “I would like that very much.”</p><p>Looking back, she could have, <em>should </em>have, asked her out from day one. It would have saved them a ton of time, that’s for sure.</p><hr/><p>Laying on her bed with her hair tangled up in knots on the pillow beneath her, Waverly knew Wynonna was going to have a bone to pick with her the next morning when they had their weekly chat on the phone. Wynonna was the one to have sex on the first date if you could call having a random stranger buy you a drink at the bar a “date,” not Waverly. But if her sister could feel the fire that entrapped her, pushing her further into the creaky mattress and messy sheets, then maybe she’d understand.</p><p>As Nicole came up for air for a third time, her chin soaked and pupils shot with passion, Waverly remembered something from her earth science class, semesters ago. “The energy,” she panted.</p><p>Mind still hazy, Nicole shook her head and wiped her fingers on the sheets, making a mental note to offer to do Waverly’s laundry later. “What?”</p><p>“I was just thinking about this thing I learned, a while ago.” Her voice was breathy as she tangled her fingers in flaming hair to ground her. “There are certain things which create energy, they’re the <em> sources </em> , and other things which absorb it, called <em> sinks</em>. I…” Their eyes met and Waverly saw a softness there, which boiled hotter than fire, warmer than the smolder of Nicole’s skin against hers, kindling a flame within her. “I think you’re my source,” she finished, the train of thought having long ran off the tracks. <em> All I know is that this is something special</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. revive your love in me // water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She felt unbelievably overwhelmed, like a sailor marooned on his boat in the ocean, watching the water cascading over the side of his raft with fear. It was already too late.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for the love on the first chapter &lt;3 as you'll see, this is set a year or so after the previous chapter. we'll continue to flip back and forth between the two time periods with each chapter. enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 2 recommendation: <b>asystole </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nicole, 11:25pm : <em> I’m sorry Waves, I just saw this </em></p><p>Wiping a stray tear from her eye, Waverly tapped out a response quickly.</p><p>Waverly, 11:26pm : <em> I just miss you so much </em></p><p>Nicole, 11:26pm : <em> I miss you too </em></p><p>Nicole, 11:27pm : <em> Only a few more weeks </em></p><p>Setting her phone aside, Waverly tried to focus back on the old books in front of her. She felt unbelievably overwhelmed, like a sailor marooned on his boat in the ocean, watching the water cascading over the side of his raft with fear. It was already too late.</p><p>Nicole was a thousand miles away, in her fancy post-graduate apartment, living out her dream every day at the laboratory where she studied medical anomalies. Just a year ago, when she had gotten the position, it had seemed like a blessing. The lab was in the big city, just an hour away from the University of Purgatory where Waverly intended to stay to complete her graduate coursework in history. But at the end of that semester, the last of undergrad, when her Princeton acceptance letter came, the whole plan changed.</p><p>Waverly would never ask Nicole to give up her dream job to come with her, and there was no turning down a position in Princeton’s graduate history program, so they had turned to long distance. The realization had showered down upon them like a flash flood, a wave of nostalgia for the days and nights they had spent together turning like a new tide between the vast stretches of highway between them.</p><p>They had made their promises and had meant them when they were first said, but daily phone calls waned with time as Waverly’s classes picked up steam. She was ever grateful for the opportunities that Princeton would undoubtedly afford her, but the evenings spent alone in her apartment curled over stacks of archived literature and large folios felt bittersweet at best.</p><hr/><p>“I feel like I’m flatlining, Nicole,” she whispered, her fingers training faint lines over her abdomen as she held the phone up to her ear.</p><p>“I know, baby,” she responded, sighing. “I wish there was more I could do.”</p><p>Nicole had to be the most supportive partner Waverly had ever had, always encouraging and reminding her of her capabilities. Never was there judgment, nor did Nicole ever tire of reassuring her that the longing, the hours and hours of Skyping, the constant emptiness was all worth it.</p><p><em> We’re gonna have it all someday, baby</em>, she would say. <em> It’s going to be you and me forever, I promise. You can do this</em>.</p><p>Waverly wanted to believe her, she really did. Nicole wasn’t a liar, that much was for sure. But that didn’t make the silence in her apartment any less deafening.</p><p>“You could come visit me,” Waverly broached quietly, her breath tightening. She already knew what the answer would be, and it pained her even more to hear Nicole’s shaky voice crackle through the phone.</p><p>“Waves, you know I want too…”</p><p>“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”</p><p>They sighed in unison, falling silent. Waverly turned towards her bedroom window, listening as the New Jersey rainwater trickled through the gutter, spattering drops over the pane. She imagined Nicole standing on the other side, her red hair flashing like a buoy in the distance of an open ocean.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Waverly.”</p><p>Wiping away a tear, Waverly drew the blinds, and repeated their mantra, calming and constant like a wave lapping at a seaside rock, “I know, baby.”</p><hr/><p>Stuck, frozen, trapped, whatever you wanted to call it. Nicole ran a hand through her hair and tinkered with the microscope’s knob. She felt anchored to the table, to her job, to the big city, millennia away from Waverly. Last night had been only the second time Waverly had suggested Nicole visit her, but she suspected it might be the last.</p><p>She wanted to go, she wanted it more than anything. But the lab was competitive and even one weekend away would mean she might fall behind her coworkers in productivity. Through her one year at the company, she had proven to be a diligent and accurate worker, but the respective recency of her hiring still left her near the top of the chopping block should the impending budget cuts and layoffs appear any time soon.</p><p>When Waverly had asked the first time, Nicole had tried to play it cool, explaining how much she wished she could fly to New Jersey, meet her at the airport, spend all weekend eating Chinese food and playing board games.</p><p>
  <em> “But?” Waverly had said, sensing Nicole’s tone, watching her intensely through the dim computer screen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m trying to make a living for you, for us. I need to be here, to get promoted, to become more stable.” She was wringing her hands together in her lap, nervousness pouring off her like drizzle off a raincoat. “I want to provide for you, Waverly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette had scoffed. “Nicole, I’m trying to do the same thing.” She had never said it out loud, but Nicole knew what Waverly was wondering then, as she stared down at the Princeton sweatshirt hanging around her shoulders.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you think I’m not doing enough for us? </em>
</p><hr/><p>“I hate this feeling,” Nicole murmured into the receiver. If Waverly could see her, she would see the tears welling up at the edges of her eyes, threatening to break the dam and pour over the levy in a waterfall. “I can hear you but I can’t touch you.” She danced her fingers over the comforter on her bed. “I want to touch you so bad.”</p><p>The younger woman hummed on the other end. Usually, when Nicole said something like that, Waverly would rise to her feet and shut the bedroom door, dimming the lights as she spoke softly her thoughts and wishes to the woman on the other side, but Nicole’s voice told a different story tonight. She wasn’t touch-starved, just starving, thirsty from being trapped upon salty waters, a vast expanse of nothing but ice-cold seawater before her. </p><p>Nicole continued. “It’s like, we’re having a conversation but the room is quiet and you're not here. It doesn’t feel right without you.” </p><p>Waverly said nothing in response because what could she? So she said nothing, and they were made parched because of it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a renegade, holding your hand // light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nicole moved her hand slowly, asking for permission with her eyes, and Waverly nodded, winding their fingers together in her lap. For then, their relationship still unlabeled, it was enough.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry its a bit of a shorter one - college work has been killing me this week &lt;3 hope you enjoy nonetheless!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 3 recommendation: <b>inordinary </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The next time they found themselves in Dr. B’s office, they were sitting side by side on one of the couches, thighs just barely touching. “Hey,” Waverly had whispered, smiling up at Nicole through dark eyelashes. </p><p>“Hey yourself,” she breathed out, thankful that Jeremy had everyone else in the room distracted with a dramatic retelling of his encounter with a seagull earlier that day.  The sun was falling just right through the windows, turning Waverly’s brown hair golden.</p><p>Nicole moved her hand slowly, asking for permission with her eyes, and Waverly nodded, winding their fingers together in her lap. For then, their relationship still unlabeled, it was enough.</p><p>Dr. B was perceptive, but if she noticed that, she didn’t say anything. </p><hr/><p>It kind of became their thing, sneaking glances and linking fingers, kissing behind closed doors. It had been unspoken, a symbol of the newness of it all. Thinking back, those had been minutes together wasted, walking side by side bumping hips instead of hand in hand, gathering shirts and skirts tossed on apartment floors in early mornings to flee back home, knowing there was something too official about staying overnight too often. When the moon shone upon a shared bed they were safe, but when the sun peeked up over the horizon it was time to go. There was no explanation then, and now it just seemed too foolish to explain away.</p><p>But, then. Then they had all the time in the world, didn’t they? Then.</p><hr/><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>Waverly Earp, ever the planner, smiled sheepishly. She had thought of everything and laid it out proudly in front of Nicole. And, Nicole thought, she was shining.</p><p>“I love it, baby,” she replied, running a hand down Waverly’s forearm. “I love it.”</p><p>The University of Purgatory graduate school brochures were splayed across the table, Nicole’s completed application to her dream lab job beside it. Waverly’s apartment was softly lit by light bulbs that emitted yellow light from within glossy white lampshades, and it always bathed the rooms in an angelic glow. Would she bring the lights to <em> their </em>place?</p><p>Nicole clasped a glowing hand within hers, kissing it softly. “Waking up next to you every morning is going to be a dream,” she breathed, and felt Waverly’s skin shiver underneath her quiet words. </p><p>“And tomorrow morning?” Waverly proposed, a blush crawling up over her exposed breast bone, a familiar glow in her eyes that had nothing to do with the lamp light surrounding them. That was all the invitation Nicole needed.</p><p>“We’ll see,” she chuckled, pulling Waverly towards the bed they had shared far too often and never enough, never, never, never.</p><hr/><p>With time, the glow faded, replaced with worry.</p><p>Nicole wrapped her arms around Waverly tighter, their skin brighter than the sun in the darkness, everything.</p><p>“Waves, what if you get into Princeton?” she asked, knowing full well it was Waverly’s reach school, a <em> fuck it, might as well apply because what can you really lose? </em> sort of option. A dreamscape scenario, improbable.</p><p>She pulled in a terse breath. Before Nicole, that had been the dream, and in many ways it still was. But it was a wrench in her otherwise perfect plans. “If that happens, we’ll figure it out then.” </p><p>It seemed so far off, so impossible, so surely unattainable that the worry dissipated, and complacency took its place like the wick of a candle dimming to ash.</p><hr/><p>Nights were spent between their two places, counting the days until Waverly’s lease was up and they could pack away her Tupperware, her bras, the photo frames on the walls, getting distracted by each other as they went and brushing against each other playfully, feigning innocence each time they would <em>accidentally </em>squeeze the other’s ass. It seemed inevitable, Waverly’s University of Purgatory graduate acceptance letter pinned to Nicole’s fridge with a little red magnet like a sconce to a wall, shining brightly, producing a proud smile every morning as she would gaze upon it, leaning into the fridge to grab coffee creamer. </p><p>There were other little fragments elsewhere, too, pieces of each other intermingled in each room, like proof they already lived together. But the fridge might have been proof of their domesticity more than anything else, covered with notes to each other that they couldn’t bear to throw away.</p><p>The first had come the morning after the first night they spent at Nicole’s apartment. As was their custom, Waverly left before sunrise, tiptoeing out of the bedroom as she gathered her clothes from the carpet. On the island in the kitchen was a small pad of paper and a pen, and, feeling guilty for leaving, Waverly scribbled out a quick note, leaving it beside the coffee pot which would undoubtedly be Nicole’s first stop when she woke up a few hours later.</p><p>It still hung on the door, even now months later. <em> Call me &lt;3 </em> was all Waverly had written, her large and swirly script filling the note paper’s lines with ease. Nicole had called her that night, asking to see her again. They both work to do, no doubt, with Waverly preparing for her graduate exams and Nicole’s research with Dr. B ramping up. But the pull between them was undeniable, electric and sparkling, and the moon glowed brighter through the curtains when they laid together, it just did.</p><p>Leaving notes became another of their things, little hearts and <em> I miss you</em>s and <em>see you soon</em>s scribbled onto scraps, napkins, anything. Just enough to make each other remember throughout the day that they had someone thinking of them, someone to come home to.</p><p>Nicole ran her fingers across the paper, cool to the touch as it rested against the fridge’s stainless steel outside. She thought of tracing the lines onto Waverly’s back, her fingers and short nails digging into the soft skin there, teeth scraping and tongue gliding, passion blinding her. Watching Waverly unwind beneath her was like staring at the sun, and Nicole felt like Icarus. And when she’d inevitably fall back down to earth, Waverly was always there to catch her. </p><p>Everything was simple, ordinary, perfect, and slow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. somewhere dreaming // plants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Waverly,” she murmured, like a reminder, a ground, the earth to her electrical circuit, her roots.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another short one eek, sorry i've been absent, i promise more is coming. it's just taking me some time (:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 4 recommendation: <b>over those hills </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She still spoke to Dr. B, every once in a while.</p><p>“It’s Rosita now,” she’d correct. “You’re no longer my assistant, Nicole, you’re my colleague.”</p><p>Every so often they’d go out for a beer to catch up, discuss how things were at the lab or at UPurg. Rosita was a good listener, always was, and Nicole would lament on the difficulties of climbing the corporate ladder like a vine slowly growing up the side of the building only to be cut down five feet from the top. She’d be praised and praised by the higher-ups, thinking maybe a promotion was around the corner, only to show up the next day and see they’d hired some outside guy to the position she’d been competing for.</p><p>“It’s like the rules keep changing.”</p><p>Rosita would assure her once more that she was probably the most qualified, probably the most accomplished of all the fellows she had ever taken under her wing, that good things would come with time, she needed patience.</p><p>Nicole turned her head to sip at her beer and caught the eye of a blonde down the way from them. The woman raised her glass, smiling, and Nicole looked away. “Waverly,” she murmured, like a reminder, a ground, the earth to her electrical circuit, her roots. </p><p>Well. It had been a rough few weeks, for sure. Their texts had slowed, were chaste, and it felt in many ways like they were slipping apart. Nicole blamed it on Waverly’s coursework, that it was taking up too much of her time and that there was no way she could be expected to check in every day. That’s what she had convinced herself of, but Nicole knew that the blame lied on herself alone, her reluctance to leave the lab for even one weekend. She took another swig of her drink, sobered.</p><p>Rosita had to leave and offered to give Nicole a ride home, but she declined. “I’m going to get another beer, I think,” she said, and Dr. B left with a huff.</p><p>“I do not like to see people drinking sad,” was all she said before turning away, leaving a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. It was then, Nicole noticed, that the blonde woman was still there, once obscured by Rosita’s form, now unobstructed. She smiled again, and Nicole smiled back. </p><p><em> Waverly </em>, she thought again, and before the other woman could make her way down the bar, Nicole settled her tab and left.</p><hr/><p>Unsatisfied but far too tired to try again, Nicole flopped back on her bed. The vibrator buzzed angrily in her hand and she grunted, turning it off and tossing it besides. It hadn’t been enough, hadn’t felt right.</p><p>As if on cue, reading her thoughts, her phone lit up with a text.</p><p>Waverly, 01:09 am: <em> Are you awake baby? </em></p><p>Waverly, 01:09 am: <em> I’m dreaming about you, I miss your body, badly </em></p><p>“God,” Nicole cursed, heat rising within her again. They’d had phone sex before, but it’d been months now. Nicole had started wondering whether she didn’t turn Waverly on anymore, but then again, she’d been wondering a lot recently.</p><p>She pressed the call button immediately and heard Waverly on the other side, already breathless and needy. “Tell me, baby, tell me what you miss.”</p><p>And they fell back into this easily, Nicole thought, as she slid her fingers back down her body, wishing they were Waverly’s, coaxing up dirt and turning over the fields along her stomach, planting bulbs and saplings all along her ego, growing the new crops within her. </p><p>When she finished and Waverly was coming down too, Nicole felt her flowers blooming, bursting, shedding their dead petals, like it was spring once again.</p><p>“Do you miss waking up next to me?” Waverly murmured, her voice small with worry. Nicole had done nothing wrong, not a thought out of place, surely; this was just Waverly’s insecurities rising up and spilling over, and she would do anything to reassure her.</p><p>“Every day, baby, I do,” she responded. <em> I love you</em>, she thought, but they didn’t say that anymore. “I promise, I do.”</p><p>“Nicole?” she said, her voice rising, more sure of herself. It made Nicole gush.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Why did we waste so much time?” </p><p>Nicole wanted to be honest. That when she was Rosita’s assistant and Waverly was just an undergrad, they had forever. That then, Waverly was planning to stay local, they would live together at Nicole’s apartment, they would start their lives together immediately, and maybe it had already begun. Then, slow meant a weekend together at an Airbnb in the countryside, making love in the hot tub, eating omelets at 3 in the morning, leaving marks on each others’ skin. Then, they wanted to keep it secret, to keep what was between them between only them, to make the explosions of passion that occurred when they were alone, bursting what had built up when they were out in public together, all that much better. Then, they had forever, in the labs and at the desks in the library, running fingers salaciously up thighs and smiling innocently, ignoring questioning glances and punishing each other in bed, if you could call it that. They wasted so much time because then, it hadn’t existed, in their sheets and morning coffee mugs, when each would slip out early before the other woke, because the mornings where they had stayed the night were that much sweeter, waking up tangled like flower stems and buzzing like bees.</p><p>Nicole had wanted to say all that, to let Waverly know once again that she loved her, that she was sorry, that she would book a flight that morning to come and see her, even if only for one afternoon.</p><p>But her voice was shaking, and all she said was, “I’m not sure.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. i have tried and i keep trying // glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It had been agonizing, the worry spread across Waverly’s face as she let her fingers trace every inch of Nicole’s body once, twice, to feel her, to know she was really there, trying not to break her. But that’s what she had needed, and Nicole was happy to comply.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i may be a vegetarian but we are now getting into the meat (: &lt;3</p><p>btw, did i say slightly angsty?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 5 recommendation: <b>no use i just do </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nicole was washing the dishes when the door shut, and Waverly leaned back against it, exhausted.</p><p>“Long day?” she asked, the towel in her hand sliding around the wine glass. Last night she had filled the glass with some cheap boxed wine, and they had gone slow, maybe the slowest they ever had, like teenagers exploring another’s body for the first time. They touched each other like they were walking on shards of glass, dancing carefully. It had been agonizing, the worry spread across Waverly’s face as she let her fingers trace every inch of Nicole’s body once, twice, to feel her, to know she was really there, trying not to break her. But that’s what she had needed, and Nicole was happy to comply.</p><p>Waverly nodded, and Nicole set the glass aside, moving to cup her girlfriend’s face. “I’m happy you’re home,” she breathed, tamping down the heat inside of her. <em> Home</em>, she thought. They hadn’t discussed that Nicole would still be here when Waverly came back to her apartment today, but it just happened, that they kept ending up spending night after night in each others’ beds, no longer afraid to wake up together the next morning.</p><p>Nicole turned away then, slowly, hearing Waverly hum in response. She picked up a plate, the last dish in the sink, rubbing at a particular spot on the side. </p><p>“Thank you for doing that,” Waverly sighed as she began to set down her things on the dining room table, and Nicole smiled to herself. She knew Waverly hated washing dishes. It was easy to please her like that, just to help out around the apartment, simply. “I love you.”</p><p>That, that was not simple. </p><p>Nicole nearly dropped the plate, her head turning slowly to meet Waverly’s eyes. “You-?” she blurted out, the realization dawning on both of them, and Waverly’s hands flew to her face, covering her embarrassment.</p><p>“No, I-” She was grasping for something to hold on to then, her bag falling off her shoulder onto the floor beside the table - which, Nicole thought suddenly, intrusively, still needed to be cleaned from their escapades this morning. “Nic, I mean-”</p><p>Nicole set the plate and towel down, then, twisting her body away from the sink fully. “No, no, say it again,” she coaxed, reaching for the hands covering her girlfriend’s face.</p><p>“I love you,” she said again, and it was nearly a whimper, a protest, a confession. Nicole tipped Waverly’s chin upward, meeting her lips desperately. She heard the last invisible barrier that had existed between them shattering, the glass falling to pieces around their kiss. Hearing her say it once more made her hungry, insatiable. </p><p>“Brilliant,” Nicole gasped as they pulled apart, and she was nowhere near full.</p><hr/><p>“You didn’t say it.”</p><p>Nicole swiped away a lock of red hair that had fallen out of her bun, sticky and clinging to her forehead. Waverly had tensed beneath her, suddenly, and Nicole sat up. “What, baby?”</p><p>“You-” Waverly stopped herself then, reaching to tangle her hands in her own messy bun. She was naked, her pupils were blown, her lips swollen and nearly bruised, her chest rising and falling quickly, shining slickly - Nicole thought with pride, <em> I have done this to her</em>. The brunette let out a long breath. “You didn’t say I love you back.”</p><p>Nicole looked away then, raising a hand to her mouth to chew on one of her fingernails. The newest idiosyncrasy that Waverly picked up on. She was nervous.</p><p>Reaching to pull Nicole’s lips down against hers, Waverly intertwined their fingers. There was passion, unmitigated, behind Nicole’s kiss; she was thinking hard, something she wasn’t ready to share. </p><p>“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Waverly whispered, toying with the strands of hair along Nicole’s neck. “I know you do, baby.”</p><p>She was nodding, humming out, “I do, I do,” and for then it was enough, the windows in the apartment’s small bedroom glinting and sharing their secrets with the world.</p><p>“I do, I just do,” she said again, calming, assuring both of them. “I don’t want you to think I don’t, Waves.” They were growing closer once more, and Nicole pressed her lips against Waverly’s neck, biting at the mark she had left there, less than twenty-four hours before.</p><p>“It’s okay,” she managed, and for now it was. Maybe later, the next day or next week if it took that long, she would feel hurt, that maybe she didn’t really love her. But until then, Nicole was making her love known, her tongue sliding down toned abs, worshipping every part of her. <em> It’s okay, this is enough</em>.</p><p>And she fell back into Nicole’s grasp without another thought about it.</p><hr/><p>Days turned into weeks and months, and Nicole explained why she was waiting. It made sense to Waverly why, and she let the reason be enough.</p><p>“I never heard my parents say it,” she had explained, “They never loved each other, they were miserable. It makes me worried to say it, like when I do, I might lose you.” She played with a loose strand of hair, focusing. “I can’t lose you.”</p><p>So Waverly was gentle with her, letting her take her own time. It was certainly different than anything she had had before, but Nicole had always been different. Waverly would whisper it between her legs, <em> I love you</em>, kissing at the center of her, nearly begging her to say it back, but when Nicole would ask if she was hurt that it was taking her so long, Waverly would deny it. </p><p>“You show me in different ways,” Waverly would say, and list them off. Doing the dishes, the laundry. Leaving their cocoon to grab their Postmates when they ordered food, all cuddled up in bed. Filling Waverly’s car with gas when she took it out, even if she was just going to the grocery store, and changing the oil once or twice too, unprompted. Reading and re-reading her graduate school applications, her dissertations, essays, anything, correcting and congratulating, encouraging her. Cleaning off her car when it snowed, getting the mail, bringing her coffee in the mornings, warming up a towel in the dryer to surprise her after a shower. “It’s enough for me, baby, you are, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Nicole responded, and she wanted to believe her, but she already knew Waverly was lying.</p><p>That had been the first wedge between them, the glass barrier that she thought had been shattered when they stood at the table the first time Waverly said it, pieced back together, the cracks now obvious between them. That had been the first wedge, Nicole could admit that.</p><p>The second wedge came soon after, in the form of Waverly’s Princeton acceptance letter. But that she would never admit to, not ever.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. skin and bones when you're not near me // sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She had never felt like this before with a partner, never satisfied when they were together, and like she was in withdrawal when they were separate.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for your patience. had wanted to get this out earlier but i had to put down my cat of nearly 15 years last week and just. couldn't do it for a little bit. i know yall understand &lt;3 thanks for all the love.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 6 recommendation: <b>good grief </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She seemed so real, sitting across from Nicole on the bed that was definitely Nicole’s bed, in what was definitely her apartment, in Purgatory, miles and millennia from Princeton. It was the fact she seemed so real that Nicole knew it was all fake, but she gave in anyway.</p><p>Waverly pulled at Nicole’s tank top, biting her way down the exposed skin. Her nimble fingers unclasped her bra with ease and she was traveling down further then, moving just like Waverly does, her little gasps tickling against each inch of skin she would touch. She was excited by the thought of Nicole, the sight of her, electric, burning at her touch, alight. </p><p>Her eyes asked for permission, once, twice, at least, as they always did before she slipped inside Nicole, and even in her imagination she was asking again, Nicole begging, gasping, <em>please, just do it already, god</em>.</p><p>Waverly was almost there, almost completely real above her, running her mouth across her chin and kissing her softly, reminding Nicole of how she fucked her when she thought that she might break in half, and it only made her passion grow stronger, gasping for air, and then, just gasping.</p><p>Nicole awoke with a start, bolting upwards. Waverly’s moans still resonated in her ears, reverberating throughout her apartment. It almost had to be real, almost - but no, it had been a dream.</p><p>This time she had expected a text as well, something from her, something to hold onto, but there was nothing. </p><p>It had been two weeks since they had their impromptu call just past midnight, and the time passing, the feeling of her absence, was growing larger with each day. Nicole had had her moment, her chance to say everything, her opportunity to let Waverly know she was done waiting, done making her wait. But that chance had come and gone, and she had never felt farther apart from her than now.</p><p>She had never felt like this before with a partner, never satisfied when they were together, and like she was in withdrawal when they were separate. Waverly had made an addict of her, surely she had to know that. Nicole typed out a few texts, letting her know her craving, but deleted them sheepishly. She felt needy, clingy, and instead, she closed her eyes and wished for the dream to come again.</p><hr/><p>Next, it was as if she was losing the smell of her, her headiness, her sweetness, everything.</p><p>The last package she had gotten from Waverly, which had been filled with little notes and a sweatshirt that smelled just like her, had come months ago now. Her Princeton sweatshirt was hanging in the closet, begging to be worn, but every day she put it on was another day it lost its scent, so most days it hung there silently.</p><p>Today she needed it though, and Nicole wrapped herself in the cloth. <em> There</em>, it was still there, even if it was just a scent, the smallest hint of Waverly’s perfume mixed with the pheromones she knew her brain was decoding unconsciously. That alone was enough to turn her on, and she stripped off all her other clothing, her mind swarming with ideas of what she was missing, of what Waverly might have done while wearing this, while thinking of her.</p><p>Then it was her taste that faded, slipping away easy, softly, like bodies sliding together under satin sheets, the softest taste on Nicole’s tongue that sometimes she would sense, just barely. And the feeling of her soft skin on hers, when they would hold each other at night - it felt like a distant memory then, but it had been only a few months since.</p><p>So then what would go next? The sound of her voice, her moans? The shape of her body? The way her hair fell around her face or clung to her back in the shower? </p><p>Nicole stood up in a flash, her vision hazy. “I need to clear my head,” she muttered and threw on some dirty clothes off the floor, a pair of jeans, tattered socks, her scuffed Docs that probably needed to be replaced. </p><p>She left her apartment hastily, the cool evening air hitting her face immediately. It was just a few blocks’ walk to Engel’s Bar and Nicole found her hand wrapped around a beer before she even realized where she had ended up. </p><p>Ángela waved at her from across the way, and she moved towards Nicole quickly, shaking the margarita she was making vigorously. “Hey girl, you look rough.”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” Nicole chuckled, catching the worry in her eyes. “I’ll drink to that.”</p><p>Ángela grabbed her hand before the glass could reach her mouth, the shaker pausing in her clutch. “You wanna talk? I’ve got a break coming up in ten.”</p><p>Considering, Nicole dropped her beer back onto the bartop. “Yeah, that would do me some good I think.”</p><p>Eyeing her up and down, Ángela resumed her work on the margarita. “Alright.”</p><p>She and Ángela had first met in Dr. B’s office months ago, where all good things in Nicole’s life seemed to begin, and being a psych major she always had some sort of insight when Nicole needed it, even if the advice wasn’t always what she wanted to hear.</p><p>Nicole had just finished nursing her beer when Ángela finally set down the towel from over her shoulder and motioned for Nicole to follow out the back, into the glimmer of the lamp-lit alleyway.</p><p>Ángela propped herself up against the dumpster there, pulling out a cigarette and giving Nicole space since she knew the redhead’s dislike for the smell and all. But there was music pounding from the strip joint down the street and sirens going off on the main road and Nicole’s mind felt clouded and heady and overwhelmed, so she leaned against the wall and motioned for Ángela to hand it over.</p><p>“It’s that bad, huh?” Angela said, tapping the ashes out on the ashtray before handing her the cigarette.</p><p>“Well, it’s not great,” Nicole responded after she took a drag. The taste lingered in her mouth, throat, lungs, like a deep burn, different from how she felt when she was turned on, but salacious and hedonistic all the same. She handed the cigarette back; one puff would have to do. “It’s like I’m losing her, piece by piece.”</p><p>Ángie sighed then, hauling in a deep breath. “So why are you here, then?”</p><p>Taken aback, Nicole met her gaze. She expected to see anger there, frustration, annoyance that every time they talked Nicole commanded the conversation to complain yet again about how she was needy and lonely, missing Waverly, putting her demons on display once again in this alley which was always filled with puddles and potholes in places where the sun never shines. But Ángela was staring her down with ferocity, like a professor demanding an answer. “Huh?”</p><p>“I’m serious Nicole, you miss her. Why the hell are you here wasting your time with me? Just, you know, go to her!” She was speaking with her hands, ashes sprinkling like raindrops onto her sneakers. “I hate seeing you like this. You’re miserable!”</p><p>Nicole shook her head. “You know I can’t, Ánge.”</p><p>“Nah, fuck that.” She pointed the cigarette at her then. “We’ve known each other long enough for me to know when you’re bullshitting me. That’s what you’re doing right now, Haught, you’re making excuses. Why is that?”</p><p>“I-I don’t…”</p><p>She paused to collect her thoughts. Was it all just excuses? It couldn’t be. She <em> wanted </em> to see Waverly, but it was work that was keeping her in Purgatory. <em> I can’t just leave, right? </em></p><p>“You love her. I know you haven’t said it yet, Nic, but we both know it’s true.”</p><p>And she was spiraling then, imagining that maybe Waverly was done waiting, done holding out hope that Nicole would get promoted, get a weekend off or some personal days she could actually use, move into a bigger and nicer apartment where they could get a cat and some real furniture, done waiting for her to ask to meet Waverly’s parents or see her hometown and spend a weekend with her sister Wynonna that she’d heard all about, that maybe her patience was long since evaporated, the journals she planned every minute of her day out in filled to brim with question marks about the future and whether Nicole was willing to commit to any of it. </p><p>“I can’t lose her,” she whispered then, and Ángela was nodding, making that knowing face and shaking out the last few ashes on the cigarette butt before she tossed it in the bin nearby.</p><p>“You’re not going to.” Ángela checked her watch and moved to open the back door, some Joan Jett tune spilling into the ginnel. “Nah, you got that look in your eye Nic, she’s not going anywhere.”</p><p>Following, Nicole quickly paid out her tab and zipped up her hoodie. “I’ll see you around, Ángie.”</p><p>She gave her a wink and turned away, picking up a shaker to mix another drink.</p><p>Nicole hustled out the bar then, lifting her phone to her ear. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered. It was nearly midnight, almost 2 am in New Jersey, so that seemed unlikely. The phone rang and rang, and then Waverly’s sweet voice broke over the airwaves.</p><p>“<em>Hi! This is Waverly Earp, I couldn’t make it to the phone right now but please leave a message. Toodles! </em>”</p><p>“Oh my god, baby, I missed that voice so much,” Nicole laughed out after the tone played. “I don’t want to hear it through the phone anymore, Waves. I wanna come out there and see you.”</p><p>She was hurrying up the sidewalk, nearly tripping on the curb as she focused everything towards the voicemail box. “I’m done waiting. And I’m sorry I made you wait with me. I’m gonna book a flight in the morning, for next weekend. Is that okay with you? Are you free?” Nicole was nearly breathless, her mind racing her feet up the pavement. “I just can’t be away from you anymore, it’s driving me crazy. I don’t care if I lose my job or … or if they promote someone over me. I’ve been prioritizing that over you, my-”</p><p><em> The love of my life</em>, she thought, and the breath hitched in her throat like dry-swallowing a pill, and she stopped in her tracks outside the film store that was just below her apartment, that Nicole could swear no one ever went into anymore.</p><p>There was a sign on the glass with two photos of some kid dressed head to toe in hockey garb, one cracked and faded and the other shiny and good-as-new. <em> Old memories seem lost to time?</em> it read, <em> Bring them in! We restore everything! </em></p><p>“My everything,” she murmured into the receiver. “Everything.”</p><p>And with that revelation, she could almost taste her once more.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. it's a wonder we keep going // avifauna</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the darkness, Nicole’s hand would slip around her shoulders, her lips gliding across her jaw feather-light, barely there, whispering, come back to bed, baby, come back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 7 recommendation: <b>wait on </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She would be unsure at times, sneaking out of the bedroom to stand at the sliding glass doors and watch the wind whip through the trees, leaves gliding to the grass in the silence. And in the darkness, Nicole’s hand would slip around her shoulders, her lips gliding across her jaw feather-light, barely there, whispering, <em> come back to bed, baby, come back</em>.</p><p>The chickadees and warblers would make their presence known as the sun rose, and Nicole would rise once more to make coffee and gaze upon the fridge, the magnets clung to its face signaling the impending decision - Purgatory or Princeton?</p><p>And surely it seemed obvious, that Princeton was Waverly’s dream school, had always been, and there wouldn’t be anyone stopping her from going. But that had been before Nicole, before everything had come crumbling down to be built back up again, before it all.</p>
<hr/><p>Nicole had run to the grocery store, for eggs and bread and whatnot, and in her absence Waverly was crying on the couch, staring at the framed photo of her and Nic taken just a few months ago on the mantelpiece. Jeremy had taken it, unbeknownst to the couple, as they hugged outside their favorite Chinese restaurant. Waverly was on her toes, leaning up to kiss Nicole’s cheek with arms wrapped around her neck, and Nicole had her head tilted back, laughing at something she had said, lost to time.</p><p>That was the feeling she was missing, the surety of those first few months, the freedom of forever, of wings flapping, soaring above the clouds, flying like blue jays and buzzing like hummingbirds. </p><p>On the third ring, Wynonna answered the phone with a grunt. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Am I going insane, Nonna?”</p><p>What they had was perfect, wasn’t it? It was all in Waverly’s head surely, as Nicole was assuredly happy and would kiss her all the way down to her toes, whisper that they would have forever, that she was unendingly proud of every accomplishment, repeating night after night her assertion that <em> we’re gonna have it all someday, baby, just you and me</em>.</p><p>But then it was like she was going crazy, the silence Waverly was met with when she would say <em> I love you</em>, how she would pull at red hair almost angrily, ferocious with need and desperation. And the realization that she would have to leave her soon, the inevitability of the move to New Jersey where she would leave Nicole behind, that maybe Nicole didn’t love her at all and that <em> that </em> would be the end, maybe it would all be easier if they just called it quits and moved on, but the thought of that didn’t seem easy at all.</p><p>“Oh, babygirl,” Wynonna murmured, and Waverly could hear her adjusting on the other end, pausing whatever movie she had been watching. Waverly considered apologizing for interrupting her, but she already knew what the reply would be, and thought better of it.</p><p>“She doesn’t love me, Wyn, I just feel it.”</p><p>Her face in that photo on the mantelpiece, the way her tongue slid down her thighs with need, how she jumped out of bed to make breakfast or run to the store, as she had this morning. Was that all a lie?</p><p>“Come on now, Waves, we both know that isn’t true.” Waverly took a deep breath, trying to convince herself once more. “She shows it differently, that’s all.”</p><p>And maybe that’s what it all came down to, that the words didn’t mean the same to Nicole as they did to Waverly. </p><p>A cardinal landed on the porch, chirping and clicking as it hopped along the banister. Bright red, like that head of flaming hair she had seen for the first time through the window of Dr. B’s office, of a new and unsure research assistant finding her bearings in an unfamiliar place. </p><p>“I don’t want to keep waiting.”</p><p>Wynonna laughed knowingly. She had seen the way Waverly looked at her girlfriend, the photos on Instagram telling her everything she needed to know about their relationship. “But you will, yeah?”</p><p>She heard Nicole’s key at the front door, the grocery bags rustling in her arms, and a smile fell upon her lips instinctively. “For her, I might wait forever.”</p>
<hr/><p>As they walked hand in hand towards their favorite lunch spot, Nicole couldn’t help but feel like it was almost all over.</p><p>Months they had, really, until Waverly had to be at Princeton. But then again, she and Wynonna planned to fly out next week to find an apartment, and Nicole started her new job the week after that, and from then on there would be no time. In a blink, Waverly would leave Purgatory, leave Nicole there in the apartment she had moved just half her stuff into, stuck in her noncommitance and insecurities with just traces of her girlfriend, of her Waverly, left to cling to.</p><p>Her grip tensed and Waverly noticed then, the tears prickling at the edge of Nicole’s eyes. “Oh, baby,” she said, pulling them out of the middle of the sidewalk, towards the brick wall on the side of the 24-hour laundromat. “What’s going on?”</p><p>Nicole was sniffling, pulling to wipe at her eyelashes, but Waverly’s thumbs got there first, gentle. She didn’t cry, not often at least, not in front of others and certainly not in public. Nicole would insist she got the habit from her mother, who would bite her lip and hold in the emotion, letting it all bubble up to a breaking point. It was a habit of hers Waverly wished to help her break, to help Nicole understand that there was no need to hide her feelings. But this would maybe not be therapeutic, as the redhead was turning to her side just a bit like she was trying to hide her emotions that were already so obvious.</p><p>“It’s okay, if you want to leave me,” she gasped out, and Waverly’s fingers tightened around her then, pulling the taller woman closer.</p><p>Waverly thought of all the times she would break down in front of her, the way Nicole would build her back up. This was her turn to reassure, make amends. “Baby, I’m not gonna leave you,” Waverly promised, tilting Nicole’s chin towards hers, asking desperately for their eyes to meet. “We have lunch plans,” she tried, smiling brightly.</p><p>“No, I mean-” Nicole broke a hand of hers away from Waverly’s then, and plastered it against her forehead. She was so beautiful, with her hair down and curling beyond her shoulders, those forearms tense and sinewy, her lips terse and cracked and gasping for air. Waverly was so in love, ravaged at the sight of her and filled with wanting. “I mean when you go to Princeton. You don’t have to…” She trailed off, sucking in a huge breath, her eyes shut for fear of seeing Waverly beside her. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you down, if before you go you might want to…break up.”</p><p>“Nicole, baby,” she coaxed. Waverly found herself on her toes again, arms slung lazily around broad strong shoulders. But Nicole was not ready to be a rock this time; she was a twig, a branch that sparrows hopped on, teaching their little ones to fly. “Look at me, sweetie.” </p><p>And their eyes met then, in unsure territory, the city bustling out on the main drag feet away, the sidewalk beneath their feet cracked like the look in Nicole’s wide brown eyes. “Is that what you want, Nic?” Her head shook no, and Waverly understood, hugging her close.</p><p>“I’m not leaving you, I promise,” she whispered, rubbing circles on the taller woman’s back, feeling her breath hitch and rise and fall with her tears once more, Waverly murmuring “I promise, I promise,” and Nicole almost said she loved her right then and there, but a car driving by honked its horn just a little too loud and she took a step back to recenter her thoughts, and by then the moment was long gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. at my fingers, on the surface // time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And it was like years and minutes all the same...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this one was rushed just a little bit, unfortunately. hope you enjoy with peace &amp; love.</p><p>&lt;3 season 4 may be over but the fight and the spirit never will be</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <em>chapter 8 recommendation: <strong>KYRH</strong> by hayley williams</em>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was like years and minutes all the same that the plane finally landed at Newark, with the tires screeching along the tarmac like music to Nicole’s ears. As her phone finally regained service, she moved to text Waverly that she had landed, but was met with a flurry of messages before she even had a moment to process. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waverly, 10:42am: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Have a safe flight, I’ll be here when you land &lt;3</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly, 11:14am: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly, 1:55pm: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh this wait is k i l l i n g me, tell that pilot to hurry up already</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly, 2:27pm: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so excited to see you baby, just to hold you in my arms again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lastly, popping up just then-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waverly, 3:33pm: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just watched your plane land!! I’m as close to the little gate area as they let me be, so I will see you really soon!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole smiled, the nervousness she had felt that morning during takeoff fading away, a sneaking suspicion that maybe the time apart, the months separate, might have done its due diligence to wipe away the rhythm that they had grown in their time together. Maybe it would be awkward, that first moment where they would lock eyes across the causeway like it was some sort of rom-com, run towards each other and make some big sort of show, either though neither of them were big fans of PDA. No, this was still Waverly - who was apt to wear her heart on her sleeve and take patience to the extreme, who would be stressing over a test on their Skype calls one day and surprise Nicole with a new set of lingerie the next. Waverly, who was always surprising and ebullient and overwhelming in her own way, always, but shy and chaste when it came to sharing Nicole or what they had with anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winding up the jetway, Nicole replied simply, </span>
  <em>
    <span>See you soon &lt;3</span>
  </em>
  <span> and picked up her pace. Waverly had been nearly bursting last night as she told Nicole of all the things she wanted to do with her this weekend: give a tour of the campus, brunch at her favorite cafe downtown, take a stroll through the art museum, have a picnic at the orchards. She would acquiesce to any activity that Waverly wanted to do, for sure, but with only three days in New Jersey she was hoping to spend some time just </span>
  <em>
    <span>exploring </span>
  </em>
  <span>Waverly’s bed as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she stepped foot back on steady ground, hustling through the gathering crowds, Nicole felt her heart rate escalating, jumping like a triphammer in her chest, until-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it was almost an accident as first that she saw her, just beyond the TSA agents and the line where non-passengers couldn’t go. Waverly was just standing up, holding a teddy bear she had grabbed from the floor. She heard her shout, “Sir, sir, I think your daughter-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around then and gave a thankful smile, shaking her hand gratefully as he handed the bear back to the little girl he was walking with. It was then that Nicole noticed she had stopped in her tracks, and grinning widely she moved even quicker then, reaching her hands around Waverly’s waist just as she was turning back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nearly let out a squeak, but those were hands that felt like no other, a smell like vanilla that was not easily mistaken, a head of red hair she could recognize for miles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey cutie,” Nicole said first, as Waverly’s smile widened and she reached up to cup rosy cheeks, bringing those lips to meet her own, just lightly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were breathing again then as one once more, like two young saplings blowing in the wind. It may have been just a little kiss they shared, but it was igniting, a match struck in low humidity, faintly burning ashes tossed onto desert-hardened kindling. Nicole moved closer, just a bit, ever still, with Waverly’s hands dancing across her hips delightfully, but clearly not enough, blazing brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she whispered then, grabbing Nicole’s hand in hers as she started towards the baggage claim.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They were not nearly inside when Nicole let her suitcase fall over in the apartment’s entryway, grabbing at Waverly’s hips as she pushed her up against the door to close it. Her hands were tangled in ginger hair, and unable to save herself much longer Waverly let her tongue peek out just a bit, running it along Nicole’s lower lip until her grip tightened and she was moaning just a little bit, breathless, and despite the fact that she had eaten a snack right before Nicole had landed, she was starving once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Waverly whimpered, Nicole’s lips traveling just behind her ear, along her jaw, down her neck. Her eagerness was encouraging, to feel wanted, desired. But she didn’t want to waste these moments in the haze any longer. “Baby, hold up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole moved back then, her eyes concerned. “Are you-” She was nervous, biting at her lower lip, hands stilling along the hem of Waverly’s tight black skirt, eyes flicking back and forth as she tried to read the signals there. “Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” she reassured, pecking at Nicole’s cheek once, twice. “I just want to go a bit slower, just want to remember all of this, bit by bit…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Nicole’s neck was welcoming her, so she leaned forward and grazed her teeth along the skin there, trailing her tongue across too, eliciting a whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every inch of this body, what you feel like beneath my fingertips again…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing at her jaw still, Waverly was tracing delicious patterns across her stomach, just above the waistband, and she felt Nicole’s bodyweight press against her further, their foreheads touching, breathing heavy, insatiable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To watch you come undone below me, hear you yell out my name…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fiddled with the top button of Nicole’s blue shirt, the one that she knew Waverly loved since it was just fit enough to accentuate the curves she used to be too afraid to show. Waverly popped just one open and met her girlfriend’s eyes. “Yeah?” she asked, and Nicole nodded furiously, her hands creeping under Waverly’s maroon sweater just enough that her skin prickled with need, invigorated at the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she worked down quick, quicker then, focusing on each button more than the last, Nicole’s breath ragged in her ear as an irregular metronome for her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway wasn’t doing it for her now, and she pushed Nicole backward, forgetting the suitcase against the wall and the dinner plans they had, guiding her blindly through the apartment towards her bedroom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I-?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought intrusively, but then of course, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she had cleaned the room thoroughly this morning, dusting the corners and doing the laundry. The bed was even made up, although that seemed foolish and unnecessary now, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was giggling then as she shoved Nicole back onto the bed, her shirt fully open to reveal a light gray bra beneath it, the straps sliding off broad shoulders slowly. But Nicole was staring openly, her hands propping her up on the edge of the mattress as her eyes trailed up and down Waverly’s form, real for once, really truly in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re finally here,” Waverly murmured, reaching up to tighten the hair tie keeping her bun in place. Nicole just nodded in response, her skin glistening just slightly, from sweat and more sweat or maybe something else, and Waverly was suddenly overwhelmed at the idea of feeling her close once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving forward, she took Nicole’s face in her hands again, those wide and pure eyes clear as they had been all those many moons ago when she had last seen them. Her button-up, already undone, was easily discarded to the floor and it was a wonder Waverly was still standing as her legs felt weak, but this was easily remedied as she moved to grasp at hips and steady thighs, straddling Nicole’s sturdy frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?” she asked, but Nicole was already making her acceptance, her intentions clear, her hands traveling from underneath Waverly’s sweater to below the hemline of her skirt, tickling at the lace she found there. Her lips were back at the brunette’s collarbone, but she felt nimble fingers push her chin back upwards, capturing her lips again, puzzle pieces fitting together once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicole was breathing heavily once more and she tugged sharply at the trim of Waverly’s sweater, begging just a bit though she would never admit it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one swift motion, the pesky cloth was gone, and Nicole felt herself ogling again, her hands free to run against the wire of Waverly’s lacy bra, some new thing she hadn’t seen yet, at least not in person. “Can I?” she asked, and Waverly nodded eagerly, guiding her fingers to the clasp behind her back with ease before reaching across to mess with Nicole’s bra herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt lecherous and leering as the garments fell away, gazing down at Nicole like she was, but then again she was looking at her the same way and it felt wonderful and exciting, so she pulled her closer by the hips and let their chests bump together in a way that was like coming home, so familiar, but new and exciting all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Nicole’s hands glided up her spine and down once more, teeth scraping against puffy lips and those lips kissing back, Waverly found herself nearly breaking open, bubbling over with excitement. She pulled back just for a second, to recenter, and in her moment of vulnerability, Nicole made her move, twisting Waverly by the hips to lay her flat on the bed below curtains of red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot how good you are at that,” Waverly breathed out, reaching up to tuck some of Nicole’s hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were rosy and plump and she was smiling, breathing heavy, giving Waverly a hungered look that she had been longing to see for way too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A terse laugh fell out of her lips then as she leaned back, squinting at something off in the distance and running fingers through her hair. “Waves, I want to say it, but it feels disingenuous to say it for the first time during sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment passed as the words came to make sense in her mind, and Waverly scooted herself up on the bed so she was propped against the headboard. “Oh, Nicole…” she whispered, tracing her jawline. “It’s not disingenuous if you really feel it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess not,” Nicole was chuckling, her eyes sparkling. “I love you, Waverly Earp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I love the way that you show me,” she responded, letting her left hand slide down Nicole’s bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that alone was enough to send the night spiraling away at their fingertips.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. love is a sad song // anger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reaching to hold her hand, she gives Nicole a comforting smile. “Of course I care, silly. I care about everything that involves you,” Waverly offers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>once again, apologize for the delay. finals coming soon and a close family friend recently passed. tell your friends and family you love them, please, before it's too late.</p><p>this is still a passion of mine and don't worry, it will be finished. I'm so happy people are enjoying this story like I am. we're 75% of the way done now, so don't read too quickly (:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>chapter 9 recommendation: <b>trigger </b>by hayley williams</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you ever talk about before?”</p><p>It just takes a moment of recognition, remembering what they had been talking about before their conversation had dulled to moans and whimpers. Waverly had been talking about her first love, her best friend from elementary school, Jessie, the first girl she ever loved, and the first time she’d ever been rejected. The obligatory straight girl crush that every queer girl suffered through at least once in their lives. Nicole had stayed silent, letting Waverly expand their universe just a bit more, to the time before they had known each other.</p><p>“Because I didn’t think you really cared,” she reasons, shrugging, and Waverly moves Nicole’s hair away from her eyes.</p><p>Reaching to hold her hand, she gives her a comforting smile. “Of course I care, silly. I care about everything that involves you,” Waverly offers.</p><p>And Nicole accepts the offering like an olive branch on fire, like a flower wilting away in fall, like an infuriated Trojan who thinks Athena herself has forsaken them to let Greeks climb, limb by limb, out of the body of a massive wooden horse, and she kisses her softly and lets her fingers do the rest with a kind of haste she knows for sure Waverly despises, just so she doesn’t have to think about it any longer.</p>
<hr/><p>Waverly’s reading some special interest book on archaeology out loud to Nicole later as she traces patterns on the older woman’s scalp, assuming she’s fallen asleep somewhere along the way with her head slotted in Waverly’s lap. But it’s without pretense that Nicole finally interrupts.</p><p>“Her name was Shae,” she murmurs, and Waverly inserts the bookmark immediately, understanding. “Shae Pressman.”</p><p>Setting the novel aside, she plays with Nicole’s hair with both hands now. Waverly waits for Nicole to keep going, but as the silence stretches on she realizes she’s waiting for permission.</p><p>“Tell me about her.”</p><p>“Oh,” she starts, sighing. “She was tall, really pretty.” Nicole pauses for a moment, wondering if she should retract that, assure Waverly that she’s not still attracted to Shae, but their eyes meet and Nicole remembers that’s not how they are, that of course Waverly’s not upset. She doesn’t get jealous. Hell, she had asked to hear about it in the first place. “Black hair and brown eyes and strong arms. We...well, we were engaged.”</p><p>And then it’s Waverly’s turn to let out a quiet “oh.”</p><p>“Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”</p><p>“No, of course not.” Waverly kisses the knuckles of Nicole’s left hand, where she’s now imagining a ring, not for the first time, maybe something small and non-descript, but carved on the inside with the letters <em> WGE</em>, something subtle, claiming without being domineering. “You have your past and I have mine,” she says, and the voice that comes out is faint and far off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about it.”</p><p>Nicole turns around to sit up, and lets a kiss fall off her lips and land on Waverly’s temple like a feather floating down, and Waverly leans closer to her then. “How did it end?” she asks, meeting Nicole’s gaze. She tries to see what Waverly is thinking, understand what she’s feeling, but her eyes are unreadable. </p><p>“We just weren’t in love anymore, I guess,” is all she says then, and settles back down into her lap, the conversation clearly over, the closure clearly missing.</p><p>“I want to hear about it,” Waverly says, and maybe she doesn’t mean it in a commanding way but it comes out like that, nearly shocking both of them. “Tell me. Please.”</p><p>And Nicole eyes her again, looking for an angle. Waverly is usually all rounded corners and dull edges but she’s bristling now, putting her foot down, and the change in demeanor feels unwarranted and unwelcome to Nicole’s ears. So she looks away and replies, “I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>She scoffs then, standing up out of the bed and letting Nicole’s head slide off her lap without warning. “You’re so full of shit sometimes, you know that?” And the tone is so <em>not </em>what Nicole was expecting that she doesn’t have time to temper her innate reaction to anger. That is, to be even angrier back.</p><p>“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Nicole, I don’t know! That maybe I just spilled my heart to you about the only other person I’ve ever <em> really </em> loved for an hour and then when I ask you to tell me about yours, your only response is to <em> fuck </em>me and say, like, fifteen words total?” </p><p>Waverly is so cheesy at times. She hates the concept of ‘<em>fucking</em>,' always has. She and Waverly don’t <em> fuck</em>, they <em>have sex</em>, they <em>make love</em>, they <em>sleep together</em>, but they don’t <em> fuck</em>. <em> Fucking </em> is what Nicole had just done to Waverly, not something they did together. She had let her fingers display her true emotions, far too quick and unsatisfying for either of them. She knew Waverly hated it.</p><p>And she’s pacing then, her little bunny slippers and the shirt of Nicole’s wrapped around her torso making her look younger and smaller against the backlight of the setting sun. But it doesn’t change the lock and key Nicole feels being installed around the part of her memory that contains Shae. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>“It feels like you don’t want to talk about <em> anything </em> anymore, Nicole.”</p><p>Maybe there’s some hidden truth there, but she chooses to ignore it, even if it’s just for a little while. “I just don’t want to talk about this, okay? It has nothing to fucking do with you.”</p><p>Waverly stops pacing, the bedroom suddenly feeling small and far too intimate for a moment like this, but it seems that they might be miles away. “What <em> does </em>it have to do with, then? Is there something I’m missing here?”</p><p>Like thunder crackling from nothing, Nicole doubles over in an instant, surprised by the voracity of her response as the sobs wrack her body one by one. </p><p>“You’re leaving,” she chokes out then, looking up through her blurry eyes to take in Waverly’s worried form. “A week from tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’m aware,” she responds, but her tone is already softening as she pulls Nicole into an awkward hug on the edge of the bed. “Is that what you’re bent up about?” She feels Nicole nod into her shoulder, sniffling.</p><p>“Sometimes it feels like you don’t care that you’re leaving.”</p><p>“Of course I care.” Nicole feels a kiss planted onto her part on the top of her head. “I care so damn much, Nic. I’m trying my absolute hardest to keep it together right now.” And even though it feels like a hail mary, like a desperate attempt to ask for something she won’t receive, Waverly tries again anyway. “I love you.”</p><p>When all she hears in return is a quiet “I know,” she resolves to spend the last few days talking about anything but their past, hoping to instead look at the future, the inevitability of it all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>stream flowers for vases / descansos by hayley williams c:<br/>come yell with / at me on twitter @lgbtqsyd</p></blockquote></div></div>
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